No Matter What I Do, I'm Hurting

I Noticed Just About Every Girl, But None Of Them Made A Lasting Impression But You.

It's There. The White Rose Among The Dried Flowers In The Vase. Shriveled And Fragile, But Holding On To That Unnatural Perfection Cultivated In Snows Greenhouse. I Grab The Vase, Stumble Down To The Kitchen, And Throw Its Contents Into The Embers. As The Flowers Flare Up, A Burst Of Blue Flame Envelops The Rose And Devours It. Fire Beats Roses Again.

So, In A Way, My Name Being Drawn In The Reaping Was A Real Piece Of Luck," Says Peeta.

Not Daring To Flee Since My General Location Has Just Been Broadcast To Any Killer Who Cares. I Mean, I Know It's Cold Out Here And Not Everybody Has A Sleeping Bag.

There's No Point In Comforting Words, In Telling Her She'll Be All Right. She's No Fool. Her Hand Reaches Out And I Clutch It Like A Lifeline. As If It's Me Who's Dying Instead Of Rue.